April's Fools Day
by ifithasapulse
Summary: It's April first and Damian, Tim, Jason, and Dick are going to great lengths to finally find the best prank to perform on the Batman...
1. Chapter 1

"Dick. Dick. Get up, Dick. Come on, Dick. Dick, let's go. Dick. Dick. Wake up, Dick."

Dick slammed a hand over the personalized alarm clock Tim had designed for him, groaning. Tim had told him that if he programmed his alarm clock to say his name over and over again, he would be more inclined to get up. He was pretty sure that it worked, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Dick tugged on a pair of navy sweatpants and blindly felt around in the dark for a shirt before grabbing a faded gray t-shirt that was once very colorful. Rubbing a hand over his face, utterly bewildered, he staggered down the stairs of the Manor to find Jason, also dressed haphazardly, waiting for him.

"Dick, hurry up, it's almost midnight," Jason hissed, glancing around the manor nervously.

"Coming," Dick called hoarsely, making his way over. From the kitchen, he saw Tim approaching them, a jumble of objects in his hands.

"Little help here," Tim asked weakly, and Jason barely caught a jar of honey before it crashed onto the floor.

Jason checked his watch. "Where's Damian?"

"Right here," a sleepy voice mumbled, and they all swiveled to find Damian rubbing the sleep from his eyes by the top of the stairs.

"Well, come on then," Tim replied in annoyance. "Let's get a move on."

They crept up the stairs and into the hallway. Dick tested the doorknob to Bruce's bedroom, and found it locked. "Damn," he swore. "Jason, do the honors."

As Jason got to work on Bruce's doorknob, Damian spoke up hesitantly. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Grayson?"

"Of course," Dick whispered. "It wouldn't be April Fool's if Bruce wasn't pranked."

"If you say so," Damian replied dubiously.

Jason signaled for them to be quiet, then swung the door open. Silently, they traipsed in, Damian's eyes wide, and Tim's heart in his throat.

Dick opened the door to his bathroom, and there was a heart stopping moment when Bruce stopped snoring abruptly. Tim's breath caught in his throat, and Dick raised his eyebrows questioningly at Jason, but then Bruce's snoring began again, and they breathed a sigh of relief.

They stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door quietly behind them. Tim flicked on the dimmer light of the two options, and they continued down the palatial bathroom until they got to the toilet.

Tim handed out a tape dispenser, some plastic wrap, and the jar of honey, and they got to work in silence. Dick flipped up the seat of the toilet, Tim spread the plastic wrap tightly over the bowl, Damian taped it down, and Jason put the seat back down again.

In the dim light, the firmly stretched out plastic wrap was utterly transparent.

"Perfect," Jason whispered.

"And for the final touch," Dick murmured. He selected Bruce's shampoo bottle, popped open the top of the honey jar, and poured the honey in. Satisfied, he put it back on its shelf and grinned at his brothers mischievously.

"Let's move out."

They swept out of the bedroom, tiptoed past the sleeping Bruce, and crept into the hallway, where they finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, he's going to try to leave as soon as possible," Dick whispered. "So, we have to move quickly. It's already half past twelve."

Dick rinsed out the jar of honey, left it in the sink, and turned to his brothers excitedly. "He's going to try to leave as soon as possible," he whispered. "Bruce always tries to get up before three on April's Fools Day, and sleeps in his office at Wayne Enterprises. He thinks if he avoids the Manor, he'll be safe."

"I take it that's the wrong impression," Damian asked tentatively.

"Absolutely the wrong impression," Jason replied in a low tone. "Come on. Let's go decorate the Batmobile."

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**A/N: Long time since I posted a Batfamily fic so hopefully you didn't forget about me! *waves* Please leave a review and if you have suggestion as to what other pranks you want them to perform in later chapters, I would love to write those in!**


	2. Violent Tendencies

_1:00 AM, the Batcave…_

Jason stepped back from the Batmobile to observe his handiwork with a critical eye. Paintbrush in hand, he asked, "What do you all think?"

Damian stared wide-eyed at the freshly painted Batmobile. "Its…pink."

"That it is," Jason responded happily. "Tim?"

Tim eyed the rosy tinted vehicle with a raised brow. "The color is appropriate," he allowed. "But I think that the gold glitter D-I-V-A written across the windshield is the best touch."

Jason grinned back. "So do I," he confided. "Dick, how's it coming along over there?"

Dick paused in removing the Batman suit from the case. "Heavy. This suit is the heaviest thing I have ever lifted, I swear."

"Then you need to lift more weights," Jason smirked, but went over to help his brother drag the Batman suit away and hide it.

Damian held up a three piece cashmere gray suit. "Are you sure we should move the _Batman suit? _What if there's an emergency?"

"We'll handle it," Jason assured him. "Don't worry about it."

"We're just replacing it with a suit, not burning it," Dick called over his shoulder. "Damian, would you fold that suit into the case please?"

As Damian obeyed, Tim examined the showers in the Batcave. "Maybe we should alter the showers," he muttered, mostly to himself.

However, Jason was in earshot, and his ears pricked up instantly. "Like what?"

"Like…swapping shampoo for hair removal cream?"

Damian stared, open mouthed, at Tim's audacity. "How could you even suggest that," he demanded, cheeks flushing. "That's terrible, even for you, Drake!"

Tim merely shrugged his thin shoulders carelessly, eyebrows rising curiously. "What would you rather that we do?"

Damian paused in his tirade against Tim to purse his lips and cross his arms. "Something harmless. Losing his hair is not harmless, Drake."

"Besides, Bruce would smell the hair removal cream," Dick added from behind Damian, who jumped at Dick's sudden appearance. "And what's more, we used that gag three years ago. We have to invent new ones every year; Bruce adapts too fast to pull the same one again."

"Maybe we should alter the water in the showers to only run freezing water," Jason suggested.

"So we'd get in and pretend to shower, but then wait for Bruce to scream," Tim asked, thinking. "Hmm, maybe."

"Bruce knows better than to shower before we do," Dick argued. "Remember last year we made the sinks run with strawberry jam?"

"He was so _pissed_,' Jason snorted, a grin floating across his features. "God, that was hilarious."

"It was less hilarious when we had to wax every single one of his cars," Tim reminded him.

Jason's face darkened. "Yeah, but it was still worth it."

Damian's expression remained incredulous at his brothers' blasé conversation. "You…you _terrorize_ my father?"

"Constantly," Dick told him cheerfully. "But if we didn't, he'd go mad."

Damian narrowed his blue eyes at Dick's grin suspiciously.

"We only go all out like this once a year," Jason assured his littlest brother.

"Thank God," Tim yawned. He covered his mouth and continued, "After all, it was only a few days ago that I pulled an all-nighter refilling the files on the inmates in Arkham Asylum."

Dick's lips twitched, but he didn't say anything in regards to his brother's anal organizational habits.

"Come on, boys," Dick said, slinging his arms around Jason and Tim, and swinging Damian up to sit on his shoulders. "Let's clear the area."

_8:00 A.M…_

Since Alfred was on vacation, Dick set the table, whistling happily under his breath. Pouring himself some cereal, he looked up in time to watch Jason cuss out a smoking toaster.

"Jason, if you keep hitting it, it's going to blow up in your face," Tim warned, calmly buttering his toast while observing his brother's violent tendencies.

Jason shot him a venomous glare. "I know what I'm doing," he snapped back, slamming his fist into the toaster one last time before unplugging the steaming wreck and dumping it unceremoniously into the sink.

"Good grief," Damian wrinkled his nose snottily. "You would think that it had done you a personal wrong, Todd."

"Your mere _existence_ is a personal wrong as far as I am concerned," Jason replied lowly, opening the refrigerator door for a carton of milk.

Tim offered him a glass then sighed tiredly. "You know, I don't think I remember last year being this exhaustive."

"Well, we have to get up earlier and earlier every time," Dick reminded him. He brought his now empty bowl to the sink, stared down at the ruined toaster, then returned silently back to his seat, bowl still in hand.

Jason, who hadn't noticed, swigged his milk cheerily. "That's only because Bruce keeps trying to beat us to the punch," he muttered darkly. "In the next few years, we'll wind up having to get started three days in advance."

"If you're _alive _in a few years from now," Damian said off-handedly, helping himself to some jam. "Then again, you've already died once and you appear to be trying to ruin your liver through the alcohol, so what's the problem?"

Dick threw him a horrified look. "_Damian_," he gaped. "Don't talk to your brother like that."

"He's not technically my brother," Damian argued, but it was a moot point. Sighing, he swiveled to face Jason. "I apologize, Todd."

"There's no point," Jason shrugged. He poured himself another glass of milk. "That is basically what I'm doing."

Dick inhaled sharply then let out an exasperated exhale. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are probably going to kill me," he muttered, closing his eyes.

"Which one," Tim asked, finishing his toast and standing to wipe down the table.

"Whichever, you pick," Dick murmured. "Both, I guess."

"If anyone is going to kill anyone, chances are, it's going to be Todd," Damian reasoned, chewing thoughtfully on his banana.

Tim removed the toaster from the sink, placed it on a rag on the tile floor, then rinsed out his glass. "He does have a point," he commented mildly, setting the clean glass back onto the counter.

"I know he has a point," Dick replied, rattled. "That doesn't make it any less rude."

Damian opened his mouth to respond when they all froze at the sound of Bruce's voice.

"Well, it's nice to see my boys all in one room without a dead body."

"Hah," Tim muttered. "Close enough."

Dick gaped at Bruce. "I thought that you were at work," he managed carefully after a few cautious seconds.

Bruce shrugged, sapphire eyes twinkling. "What, I can't spend time with my sons?"

Tim exchanged a slightly panicked look with Damian. "I take it this is not according to plan," Damian asked quietly.

Jason grimaced. "Not even a little."

Bruce poured himself a glass of orange juice and began reading a discarded newspaper. "I look forward to some bonding time with you boys today," he commented casually, but the gleam in his was anything but casual.

"He's on to us," Jason whispered to Dick, eyes widening. "What now?"

"War," Dick replied simply, a plan already forming in his mind.

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**A/N: I know, it's been a while since I updated a chapter! Please be patient, school is being difficult. Also, I noticed that many of my wonderful readers have favorited or followed without reviewing, so please, remember the box below is there for something! **

**Goal: 15 reviews and I'll make it a point to DEFINITELY update by the 21st of this month. You have my word. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Kesha Remixes

Bruce sipped his orange juice calmly, a plan of his own taking shape in his mind. After the previous incidents, he knew about the jam in the sinks, the hair removal cream in the shampoo (though clearly not about the honey). But he also knew his sons well, and if there was one term that applied to them, it was resourceful.

He went back to his newspaper, pondering his vengeance.

_Meanwhile…_

"This is not okay," Tim stated, pacing back and forth in Jason's bedroom. "This is not okay on any level whatsoever."

"Drake, you will merely receive retribution for whatever pranks you have been victimizing my father with," Damian replied lazily, lounging on Jason's couch, a large book in his lap.

"Me? Damian, if Bruce figures out everything we've done, we're all going down for it. Because you didn't exactly stop us, did you?"

Damian's ears went pink, and he picked up _War and Peace _to hide himself behind instead of answering.

Dick sighed, tearing off another sheet of paper form his notebook and tossing it into the recycling bin in the corner of Jason's bedroom. "Let's just relax, okay?"

"Not okay," Tim barked. "Not oka-"

"Don't start," Jason groaned. He laid on his back over his bed, eyes shut. "What do you think Bruce will do to us this time?"

"For the Batmobile, we'll be grounded on all patrols from now till Christmas," Dick began, ticking things off tiredly. "For the shampoo, we'll have to do the dishes until Alfred comes back from vacation. For the Batman suit, we'll do punishment laps around Gotham Park until we pass out. For the-"

"Plenty of that subject," Tim declared loudly, wincing. "I don't want to talk about being scalped, thanks."

"Would you rather we discuss how much you would deserve it," Damian asked disinterestedly, flipping a page and crossing his legs at the ankle.

Tim shot him a glare that could burn holes through the paperback novel in Damian's hands. "Don't forget, you're going to suffer for this, too."

"Perhaps."

"Might as well finish it then," Jason commented.

"What do you mean," Dick asked, frowning.

"If Bruce is going to punish us, we might as well really deserve it."

Tim stopped his pacing to stare in dumbfounded disbelief at his older brother. "Are you high on something, Jason?"

"No," he replied amicably. "I'm merely saying that if we're going to do this right, we might as well really go for it. Go big or go home."

Tim's jaw dropped, and he looked to Dick for support. "Tell him he's being an idiot."

"He already knows that," Dick replied absently. He put his pencil down and frowned contemplatively. "Should we involve Selina?"

"There are no words to describe how bad of an idea this is," Tim groaned, putting his head into his hands.

"Let's text Selina form Bruce's phone," Jason suggested, a wicked smirk lighting his features.

"If I throw myself out of this window, do you think that'll be a preferable death to the one Bruce is going to give us," Tim wondered out loud.

"You're welcome to find out," Damian answered, still reading.

"We could text Selina telling her that Bruce is taking her out for lunch today," Jason supplied creatively.

"We could…not," Tim tried weakly.

Dick ignored him. "What if we filled Bruce's wallet full of condoms?"

Tim let out a moan of horror. "He's going to _literally murder us_!"

"He might be tempted," Damian piped up again from behind his book. "But he'll probably subject them to a more prolonged death than the pair of us."

"That is so reassuring."

Dick and Jason babbled enthusiastically about the pranks they would pull, growing more and more elaborate to Tim's mounting horror, and a few horrifying snippets of conversation would float to Damian and Tim's ears.

"That's it," Tim finally exploded. "I'm not going to let you do this!"

Jason sent Tim a lazily amused glance. "Timmy, I've got at least five inches and a good thirty pound son you," he drawled. "I can do pretty much what I want."

Tim stood his ground. "I'm serious. This is getting out of control."

Damian's ears perked up and he silently placed a bookmark in his novel, watching the drama unfold.

"Tim, come on," Dick wheedled. "It'll be fun…"

"No, it won't."

Jason glared at him. "Fine."

Tim glared back. "Fine."

Damian glanced between his brothers. "Does this mean we aren't going through with this?"

"No, it just means that Tim isn't going to be a part of the joke," Dick replied heavily.

"Which means it's a free-for-all," Jason sing-songed. "I can prank Tim, Tim can prank Dick, Dick can prank me. Nothing is off-limits."

Damian's eyes widened. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"You shouldn't," Dick assured him, wincing. "This is going to get ugly."

"With drake involved? Undoubtedly."

Tim's jaw twitched but he didn't say anything.

Dick let out a whistle between his teeth. "So much to do, such little time."

"So many lives to ruin in just a few short hours," Jason added, his eyes glittering in a way that scared Tim.

"Do your worst."

"Two steps ahead of you, little brother. Today is going to redefine 'hell.'"

Bruce Wayne was not a happy man. Living with a ten year old would-be assassin, a seventeen year old vigilante skilled in areas of deduction and computer hacking, a twenty one year old anti-hero with a penchant for guns and a sense of humor that would make Satan himself wince, and a twenty four year old hero (who was secretly only four at heart) took its toll.

And yet, nothing had ever tested his patience, his control, and to put it bluntly, his ability to not slap a bitch than today had.

First, Damian had come screaming to him because somehow Jason had magically somehow changed all of his clothes to be a bright foxy pink. It had taken him twenty minutes to restrain Damian from doing some serious damage to Jason's nervous system.

Next, he had been disrupted from his late afternoon nap by Jason's shouting in the shower. After kicking the door down, Bruce had come face to face with not only a stark naked Jason Todd clutching a blood red towel (chemically enhanced to turn red when wet and thus scaring the living hell out of Jason when he toweled off after his shower) and shouting bloody murder, but also the sheer realization that his children were absolute morons.

After that, he had been called back by an increasingly infuriated Damian, who had wordlessly yanked him into his bedroom to show him the dozens of stuffed animal kittens Tim had apparently littered all over Damian's room. After calling for a van to take them to the nearest children's hospital, Bruce had sunk into a chair in the living room and tried to think of all the bad things he had done in his life to warrant this.

He was interrupted from this pity session by Tim, who had been cleaning his weapons when he realized that Damian had replaced them all with rubber blades. Apparently this was a bigger deal than Bruce had realized because the second he sat back down again in his chair, Damian was hurtling straight at him, this time complaining about the fact that Tim had somehow removed the doorknob from Damian's door in the forty-five seconds since Bruce had last seen him.

Unfortunately, Bruce didn't have a chance to punish Tim or Damian for their behavior because he had to tell Dick to stop playing remixes of Kesha songs, which was giving him a headache. To which Dick had angrily replied, "Jason changed all of my ringtones and now he won't stop calling me, Goddammit!"

And before Bruce had time to blink, Jason was in his face again, spouting nonsense about how Dick had filled Jason's bathroom with what he described as 'a shit ton of Ooh La La hand softener.'

While Bruce did not consider this a problem at first, he quickly realized that it was indeed a massive problem once Jason had dragged him to his bathroom and showed him what Bruce could quite honestly say was justified to be described as 'a shit ton of Ooh La La hand softener.'

Seriously, people didn't realize what a problem hand softener could be in those numbers, Bruce thought desperately as he dragged himself down stairs again, hoping for a merciful death.

Alas, it was not to be. Within literal seconds of his butt touching the chair, Bruce was yanked upright again and had Damian's iPod shoved into his bewildered face. It had taken him a few confused seconds to realize that Damian's Vivaldi had been swapped out for a detailed assortment of punk rock.

He didn't have time to think up a proper way to discipline Jason for this because the second he realized it was Jason who had done it, Jason himself was sprinting down the stairs, bellowing about Dick and how he had replaced all of his highly sophisticated literature (consisting of Harry Potter and detective novels) with Bleak House and David Copperfield.

Where Dick could have gotten his hands on three thousand odd copies of Bleak House and David Copperfield, Bruce had no idea.

As if that hadn't been enough, he had been confronted by a furious Tim before he could return to his nap, who was ready to kill him because Bruce had _adjusted _Tim's files (what, was he supposed to take the plastic-wrap-covered-toilet-bowl lying down?) to be filed according to the number of times the documents used the word 'the.'

In other words, the organizational system made zero sense whatsoever.

Tim was not very happy about this. In fact, he had stood and shouted at Bruce about the number of times he had updated and re-updated his files until Bruce had caught sight of the pink Batmobile over Tim's left shoulder.

After punishing his children with the I'm-not-angry-I'm-just-disappointed speech, removing their electronics form their rooms, grounding them from now till Christmas, and taking them off of patrol duty 'until further notice', Bruce had finally stormed back upstairs, wondering what in hell he was going to tell Oliver.

He wondered if Oliver went through this every year.

And after all that, he was served orange juice spiked with _vodka _at lunch.

"This is it," Bruce announced grimly, facing his sons with an air of funeral-like graveness. "You've crossed a line, boys. I'm going to be forced to-"

He was interrupted by a _ping _of his cell phone (the same one that Jason had pick pocketed without Bruce knowing to send a text to Selina), alerting him to the fact that Selina had just texted him.

Frowning, he read the message:

**I'd be delighted to have lunch, Bruce. Why don't you pick me up at one? –SK**

"What the hell," he muttered, staring at his phone. Then he scrolled up to read the previous texts.

He slid his phone back into his pocket, glaring at his sons. "I'm going out for lunch with Selina. I need to leave this building before I shoot you all dead. If you do anything before I come back, I _will _shoot you all dead. And Jason, if you ever pick my pockets again, I will give you the Russian Interrogation Sequence 104. _ Without_ puking breaks."

Bruce spun on his heel and left, dramatically slamming the door behind him.

"You put the condoms in his wallet, right," Dick asked Jason.

"Of course."

Tim closed his eyes and wished for a quick, painless death.

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**A/N: I was blown away with all of the support you gave me in your reviews so here's a chapter as promised, before the 21st! I can't thank you enough.  
**

**New goal: 30 reviews and I'll update by the 25th. Please be as specific as possible in your reviews and thanks to everyone who reviewed before! I wouldn't have updated so quickly without you.**


	4. Bats From Hell

_The Iceberg Lounge…_

Bruce grinned at Selina over the top of his wine glass and sighed. "You have no idea how glad I am to be out of that house."

Selina lifted a dark brow. "Really? How bad is it?"

"Bad," Bruce confirmed. He stabbed bad-temperedly at a cucumber on his plate and glared at it for a few seconds before he ate it, chewing broodingly. "Awful. Truly terrible."

Selina hid a grin as she fanned open a napkin and ducked her head, partially obscuring her face. Clearing her throat, she asked nonchalantly, "What did they do this year?"

"What didn't they do," Bruce muttered, glaring at his steak now. He swallowed a mouthful of iced lemonade, wishing it was acceptable to get drunk at half past one in the warm afternoon. He would have traded his lemonade for a shot of tequila in a heartbeat and he didn't remember the last time he had had an alcoholic beverage. "Those boys are going to kill me."

Selina sipped her wine, crossing her legs under her scarlet cashmere sweater dress. The air conditioning in the night club-slash- restaurant sent chills along her exposed legs and Bruce wordlessly shrugged off his jacket for her. Accepting it, she twirled her noodles around her fork and popped it into her mouth. "What did you do to them?"

"I took them off patrol," Bruce replied heavily. He hated taking his boys off of patrol. He may not need them at the moment, having more than enough heroes lending a helping hand, but it was a bond they had formed.

"Isn't that a little dangerous?"

"No. I have Stephanie, Barbara, and Cassandra. Huntress is here too. And there aren't any major cases going on right now. If there's an emergency, I'll call them in, but for the time being, I don't need them patrolling."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Besides, I just closed the Killer Croc case. There shouldn't be trouble for a long while to come."

Selina shrugged, her inky strands trailing elegantly over her slender shoulders with the simple movement. "Whatever you say, handsome." She leaned closer to him, the scent of her cologne (Selina was fond of Bleu De Chanel, merely because nearly all female socialites wore Chanel number five) wafting towards him. She ran her hand through his hair and skimmed her fingertips along his jaw line.

Her breath ghosted past his neck as she murmured into his ear, "Why don't you and I-?"

"Are you two quite finished?"

They jolted apart like guilty children to stare in surprise at Oswald Cobblepot. He smiled thinly at them, his hands folded neatly behind his back. The very image of a respectable businessman and restaurant owner. "Shall I bring the check?"

Selina crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side, pursing her lips. "Was that the best way you could have handled that, Ozzie, darling?"

"I run a respectful business, Miss Kyle," Oswald replied ever-so-politely, a gleam in his eye.

Bruce scoffed discreetly; recalling the time Dick and Jason pretended to be strip dancers for a night only a few yards away in the entertainment center. Respectful business his foot.

"Although, if you _are _finished, we have a VIP room upstairs that might fit your more recreational needs." Oswald forced himself not to laugh, widening his eyes earnestly. "It has a hot tub, a thousand count cotton sheets, and an assortment of lingerie and whips, if that-"

"No, thank you," Bruce burst out, flushing dark pink. His hands gripped the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles turned white and there was a slightly frantic look in his eyes. "That won't be needed."

"Whatever you like, sir," Oswald said airily, enjoying the tense atmosphere. "Excuse me, I'll just bring the bill."

He departed, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake. Actually, it was only uncomfortable on Bruce's part; it was more of a highly amused silence on Selina's behalf.

"Where were we?" In a split second, Selina's hands were on his shoulders again and her hair brushed against his jaw.

Her lips hovered over his mouth and Bruce barely heard the waiter beside him ask, "Cash or credit, sir?"

Not taking his eyes off of Selina's face, Bruce reached in his pocket for his wallet and retrieved a crisp hundred dollar bill. At least, that's what he _thought_ he had retrieved.

The waiter gave an embarrassed cough from Bruce's periphery. Bruce gritted his teeth together in irritation. _Why was that man still here? Couldn't he see that Bruce was in the middle of something very impor-_

"I'm sorry, sir, we don't take that payment here."

"What?"

Bruce turned his head reluctantly and stared at the waiter's flushing face then down at his hand.

Closing his eyes briefly, Bruce heard himself saying, "I'm very sorry. I'll just write you a check then."

Selina tucked her tongue firmly in her cheek as she watched Bruce write out his check while very obviously dying of humiliation. She winked at the waiter, who appeared to choke on his breath of air, and gently plucked the condom from where Bruce had hastily dropped it onto the table. The waiter's eyes widened as she slipped it into her purse, a smirk quirking the corner of her full mouth.

Once the waiter was gone, Bruce turned to Selina and cleared his throat. "I didn't put them there."

"So I gathered."

"Shall we leave?"

"And make use of those condoms? Absolutely."

Bruce wrapped his arm around her slim waist as they left. Selina slid her hand into his as they walked into the bright sunlight. "Should I pity what's coming to them?"

There was no need to clarify who 'them' was. "No," Bruce replied shortly, hailing a cab.

Selina laughed. "Oh, I don't know, handsome. The punishments do get worse every year."

"Well, so do the pranks."

"True," Selina allowed, shifting her purse in her lap.

"They'd better _run,_" Bruce snarled, shutting the door behind him.

"Like bats from hell?"

"Like bats from hell," Bruce agreed grimly.

**FIN**

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**A/N: Hopefully you enjoyed this and if you did, please leave a review below! Thanks so much to everyone who left a review, it means the world to me and I couldn't have done it without you. Until next time, my lovely readers!**


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